


Smoke and Fire

by Kaijuscientists



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Panic Attacks, smoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22946782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/pseuds/Kaijuscientists
Summary: A baking mishap fills the book shop with smoke, Crowley walks right into it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 123





	Smoke and Fire

“I’m afraid we are closed!” Aziraphale yells, from the back when he hears the door chime. He’s really much too busy to deal with any customers at the moment, can’t they see his entire shop is filled with smoke.

He’s fanning air from one of the many open windows, trying but failing to clear the air. Instead of hearing the door chime when his visitor leaves, he hears a thump out in the lobby instead. 

“Oh good lord,” he grumbles, dropping the newspaper he was using to fan to go and see what’s happening out front. “I am very sorry, but as you can see…”

“Crowley?!” he exclaims, surprised to find the demon on his hands and knees. He looks around, not seeing any immediate danger. “Whatever is the matter?”

Crowley does not even acknowledge his presence, does not even hear him, his head bowed and breathing harsh. 

Aziraphale kneels in front of him, and he grips Crowley’s shoulder, the demon immediately whips his head up, looking frantic. He flinches away, falling backward on to his butt and scooting right into a top heavy table, knocking it and its contexts onto the floor. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale cringes as books hit the floor, willing the small avalanche to avoid falling on Crowley’s head. He has a pretty good idea as to what’s happening, and step one is getting rid of the smoke, a quick wave of his hand clears the air. 

Aziraphale crawls towards the scared demon slowly, kneeling in front of him again. Crowley is looking at Aziraphale, but he can tell that he’s not really seeing him. He has a glazed look in his eyes, like he’s looking through him, panting and shaking like a leaf. His throat is moving like he’s trying to speak, but failing. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale speaks softly, carefully, hand held in front of him. “Wherever you are, whatever it is that you’re seeing, it’s not real.”

Crowley’s eyes dart around the room, unseeing, unhearing. 

“You’re in my book shop, I am here with you. ” Aziraphale continues, scooting a little closer to Crowley, reaching a hesitant hand towards him. “We’re together, we’re both safe.” 

“May I touch you?” Aziraphale asks, he’s afraid to spook the demon again, but the need to offer comfort is growing with the tears leaking from the corners of his beloved’s now tightly shut eyes, and it’s clear his words are failing to reach him. 

Crowley’s only response is a whimper that pierces right though Aziraphale’s heart. 

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale begs, his voice raising in concern. 

Crowley just shakes his head, hands coming up to clutch his head, fingers tangling in red hair and gripping tightly, painfully. 

“I’m very sorry, dear.” Aziraphale says, not seeing another option. “I’m going to touch you anyway.”

Soft hands wrap around bony wrists, gently prying fingers out of Crowley’s hair. He shushes Crowley‘s distressed noises as he tries to pull away from Aziraphale’s touch. 

When the whimpers turn into a choked sob that sounds like it was ripped from Crowley's lungs, Aziraphale decides he can’t wait for the demon to snap out of this on his own. 

Without hesitation, Aziraphale picks him up, one arm under his knees, the other supporting his shoulders, and perhaps the most alarming thing so far in this whole situation is that he doesn’t react to being man handled one bit. 

The back door of the shop opens obediently, allowing them exit into the alley behind the shop, and more importantly, privacy while outside. 

He sets Crowley on the ground, his back against the wall, and hopes that fresh air will do him good. 

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale repeats softly, taking Crowley’s hands in his own, gently rubbing his thumbs across his knuckles, “Come back to me.”

It takes a moment, a long anxious moment, for Crowley to show any signs of awareness, but soon the breeze blowing gently past them, carrying scents a lot more pleasing than burning bookshop, breaks the spell holding Crowley hostage. 

Crowley comes back to himself slowly and emotionally. When a blurry angel swims into his vision, whomst he was convinced was burned up for good just moments before, he can’t stop the sad noise that comes out of him. Nor can he stop the new tears that blur his vision even more. 

He’s not surrounded by raging flames and charred, burning pages. His Angel is whole, right in front of him. 

“Angel,” he chokes out, using Aziraphale’s grip on his hands to pull him closer, into a crushing hug. He tucks his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck as he tried to get his breathing under some kind of control, instead of gasping, hitched breathes. 

Aziraphale holds him steady, one hand running up and down his back, the other settled on the back of his neck, a comforting weight just like he knows Crowley likes. He whispers soothing words until Crowley has calmed down, no longer shaking, just sniffling in Aziraphale’s arms. 

“What happened in there, dearest?” Aziraphale finally asks, even though he’s positive he knows the answer. He’d like Crowley to talk though it, knows that it’ll be helpful. 

Crowley sits back, really taking in his surroundings for the first time, finally noticing that they’re sitting outside, behind the bookshop. 

“When‘d we get outside?” He asks, his words slurring together a little. 

“I um, carried you out a while ago.” Aziraphale explains. “You were having a panic attack, and I couldn’t get through to you.”

“Oh,” Crowley says, but can’t get his brain to think much more about Aziraphale lifting him up and carrying him anywhere, not with dissolving right into the ground. 

He decides to focus on now, and figures he owns Aziraphale an explanation. 

“Was the smoke,” he says, sitting back, leaning fully against the wall, with a vague, flappy hand gesture at himself. “that set this off.”

Aziraphale hums and waits for Crowley to continue, reaching over to hold Crowley's hand in his own. 

“I was right back in the middle of it.” Crowley sighs, proving Aziraphale’s suspicion correct. A full body shiver running through him as he thinks about it again. “When everything was burning. When you were gone.” 

It was still a very painful memory, for both of them, though for different reasons. 

“Sorry,” Crowley says, sadness creeping his voice, purposefully avoiding meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “For that display.”

“Oh, Crowley, no.” Aziraphale says, gathering his lovely demon back into his arms. Crowley melts into Aziraphale’s arms, tucking his face back into his neck and wrapping his arms around him. “My dear, my love, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I should be the one to apologize,” Aziraphale says, guilt settling in his belly. He had been attempting to bake cookies, and unfortunately he’d gotten distracted and burnt a batch to a crisp. “It was my fault there was smoke in the shop.”

“Nah, angel.” Crowley says, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s shoulder. “No worries, it’s passed.”

“How about we spend the rest of the day at your’s.” Aziraphale suggests. “Unless you fancy this alley, then we may stay here, though people might start to stare soon”

“S’good idea.” Crowley stifles a giggle. “We can walk to Mayfair, believe it or not, I don’t feel like driving.”

“Write that down in the history books!” Aziraphale jokes, and when Crowley pulls away he’s smiling and playfully swatting, looking at lot more like himself. 

“Oi, angel, watch it.”

“Shall we go? We can even watch that movie, the one you’ve been trying to get me to watch for months, with the robots.”


End file.
